


The Lights Are Shining Bright

by theonlytraveler



Category: IT (1990), IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: High School, M/M, Pining, School Dance, friends turned lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 05:03:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13651974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theonlytraveler/pseuds/theonlytraveler
Summary: Eddie is all set to go to NYU after graduation, even though he's going to miss his friends- especially Richie.





	The Lights Are Shining Bright

**Author's Note:**

> Reddie Valentine school dance thing.

It’s warm inside the gym, the lights low and the music just a little too loud, the dance beat thrumming through the ground.  Eddie is sitting at one of the little round tables, picking at the tablecloth, paying little attention to the dancing people around him, or whatever his friends are talking about.  

Most of them are crammed at the same table, Bev and Richie the only two up and in the middle of the rest of their peers.  He can see them, Richie laughing as he twirls Bev around, his smile wide, and beautiful, his hair bouncing as he moves and takes Bev by the waist.  Eddie’s chest hurts, and he tries to shove the feeling away, but it’s strong, and insistent, and he has to turn away or risk fleeing just to find some kind of relief.

“What’s wrong?”  Mike asks him, sitting to his right, leaning in close to be heard over the music.  "You feeling okay?“

Eddie glances at Richie and Bev again, another sharp sting shooting through him, and he says, "I’m fine.  Why?”

“You look like you’re gonna puke.”  Mike places a comforting hand on his back, making soothing circles, catching Bill, Stan, and Ben’s attention.  "I can take you home, if you want.“

Eddie shakes his head, staring at the little paper heart stood against a vase in the center of their table.  "I’m okay.  Really.”

Great.  Bill’s giving him a strange, knowing look, glancing out on the dance floor quickly before turning back, his brows moving up his forehead, a silent inquiry.  Fuck- he wishes he had never told Bill how he feels, but it was another year, another Valentines day dance, and he was young and stupid, and sad.  Richie had spent the whole night dancing with some girl, and took her out behind the gym, emerging some time later with his shirt disheveled and a wide, satisfied smile.  It hurt Eddie’s chest, much like his chest is hurting now, and he needed to tell someone or he might have spent a whole week feeling sorry for himself.  Bill had already known, but it was nice at the time to get it out.

Luckily, know one pushes for more, Ben and Stan getting up at some point to go get more drinks, Mike and Bill talking about some concert they’re going to at the end of the month.  Eddie  _really_  hates dances.  He doesn’t even know why he goes to them at all.  He was set on skipping this one, because it’s senior year, and he’s got a lot of shit to get done at home, and he’s still reeling from getting the news that he was accepted into NYU- he’s got no business being here.  But, Richie asked him to come, because it wouldn’t be the same if he didn’t, or some bullshit like that.  Really, Richie could have said anything and Eddie would have ended up here anyway.  He hates himself for it, but he just can’t say no to him.  

Restlessness gets Eddie to his feet, and he heads over to the drink station near the rear of the gym.  He has to weave through bodies, passing by Bev and Richie at one point, looking away when he thinks he hears Richie call for him.  The urge to go back almost pulls him in, but he ignores it, bottles it up, and pours himself a cup of punch that’s far too sweet for his taste.  It shocks his mouth, and he spends a few moments getting used to the feeling, sticking his tongue out and making a face at the red liquid in his cup.  Maybe he should just drink some water.  

Eddie tosses his cup in the trash, looking up just as Bill sidesteps a twirling couple and emerges from the dance floor.  "Hey,“ he says, loudly, standing close to Eddie and leaning down a bit.  "Y-You okay?”  

Sighing, Eddie shrugs.  "I guess.“  He shouldn’t say anything about what’s on his mind, but the feeling in his chest won’t go away, and talking it out helps at times.  "Just wanna go home.”  

“Because of Richie?”  

Eddie glances around, relieved to find no one paying attention to them.  Most people call him gay, but he’s never confirmed or denied the rumors, and he doesn’t want any trouble tonight.  "Not really.“

He can tell Bill doesn’t believe him.  Lying isn’t a habit of his, and he’s shit at it when he tries.  "You don’t h-have to lie, you know.  We can both leave, i-if you want to.”  

He really does want to.  But, there’s a sick, self-hating part of him that wants to stick around, to collect the crumbs of Richie’s attention when he gets bored of dancing and comes looking for him.  It’s only a matter of time.  "Nah, it’s fine.  I’ll just… I don’t know.  Try to dance, maybe.“  

Bill’s reaches out, places a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently as he says, "Y-You gonna tell him?”  

Eddie shrugs, looks at the ground, wincing at the hurt that spreads through his stomach.  "I don’t know…“  He’s thought about it, imagined it so many times, daydreamed about the best outcome.  There’s been nights where he can’t sleep because he can’t get it out of his mind.  Endless scenarios played out behind his closed eyes, his stomach swooping as Richie’s voice fills his head, telling him things like ” _I like you, too, Eds_ “ when Eddie confesses, or ” _Can I kiss you_?“ in the front seat of Richie’s car, some sweet, low song playing as they get close, so close that Eddie can almost feel Richie’s breath brushing over his lips.  And it’s just pure  _torture_ \- all the wondering, the hoping, his heart crushed each time Richie talks about a girl, or comes to school with hickeys on his throat, boasting about a good time out at the quarry, or in his room while his parents are out for the evening.  

Then there’s the times when it’s just the two of them, alone in Eddie’s bedroom, and he listens as Richie confides his dreams, his insecurities, their shoulders pressed close and their heads resting together.  It’s at those times that Eddie almost lets it slip, almost blurts out ” _I love you_ “- but he catches himself, drags it all back in, and he doesn’t let it out again, until the next time Richie gives him one of those  _looks_  that makes his heart skip and his brain stutter over itself.  He’s hopeless, and he can’t stop wondering how he’s going to feel in the future, when he’s in New York alone, going through his days in a new place, without the one person he wants to keep in his life more than anything.  

"I don’t think y-you should.”  Bill’s voice brings him back, out of his worn-out thoughts.  "I-It’s probab-bly not a good idea.“

It sucks to admit to himself, but Bill is most likely right.  "Yeah, I know.”  

“Even if you guys s-start dating, y-you’re both going different ways a-after g-graduation.”  

God, it hurts to even think about that, how damn much he’s going to miss seeing Richie every day.  "You’re right.“  

Now he’s getting lost in his own thoughts, and without saying anything, Eddie walks away, his feet carrying him toward the doors off to the far right corner of the gym.  He thinks he hears Bill calling for him, but he needs to get away, get outside and breathe a little bit of fresh air, so he can shrug off the anxiety he can already feel clawing it’s way up his throat.  It’s all so stupid, he thinks, as he pushes open the heavy door and slips out into the open end of the hall.  He feels like shit over something he can’t control, something that isn’t going to be important in the long-run.  Whether or not he gets to have Richie in his life, he’s still going to go to New York, still going to try hard in school, and hopefully make it through.  

Eddie leans back against the cool wall, listening to the music, loud enough that he can still hear it pretty well.  It’s no use sulking over everything, but he just can’t help it.  He’s had these feelings for so long that they might as well be a permanent part of him.  It’s not like he’s going to get over it as soon as he’s out of Derry, far away from everything he knows.  Richie’s influence over his life is so strong, so incredibly important, he knows damn well that he’s going to pine for the rest of his life.  There’s just no way he’ll ever forget him, even thought it’s likely they’ll never seen each other again once they both leave.  And that, even more than his unrequited feelings, hurts more than he can even process.  

The door opens, and he stands up straight, anticipating Bill coming out here to talk to him some more- but his stomach jolts when he sees the head full of dark, curly hair, the long, pale fingers letting the handle slip out of their hold.  Richie turns, spots him where he’s standing a few feet away, and his face breaks out in a wide smile.  

” _Well ya_ ,“ he says, coming closer, his voice slipping into a southern drawl. ” _What’s a pretty thing like you doin’ out here on your lonesome_?“  

Eddie fights a smile, looking away as his cheeks turn red.  "Shut up, Rich.”  

Richie frowns dramatically, one hand in his pocket, the other twirling a pen between his fingers.  " _Now, that’s no way to talk to a gentleman, sweethear’.  Where’re your manners_?“    

"Up your ass,” Eddie retorts, and he can’t hide his grin, chancing a look at Richie’s ridiculous expression.  He’s got his upper lip curled up toward his nose, and he’s puckering his lips, slouching a bit with his hip cocked out.  "What the hell are you trying to be?“  

” _Your date, mah valentine_.“  

The blush spreading over Eddie’s face burns, and he hates that he falls for this, even though Richie’s just screwing around.  "Beep fucking  _beep_ , asshole.”  

“Ooh,” Richie says, dropping the accent as he pulls his hand out of his pocket, switching the pen over.  " _Someone_  is pissy tonight.“  

Eddie rolls his eyes, folding his arms over his chest, and he wishes he could just be alone, though he’s gladly soaking up the attention.  "I’m not.”  

“Bullshit.”  

“I’m just tired.”  

“And  _more_  bullshit.”  

“Fuck off,” Eddie snarks, and he stands up a little straighter when Richie falls back against the wall right beside him.  "Ever heard of privacy?“  

Richie hums, tipping his head back, the line of his throat drawing Eddie’s eyes to his skin.  "No, can’t say that I have.”  

He needs to look away, but it’s so damn hard not to stare.  Richie’s messed up hair is barely touching his shoulders, his dark, buttoned shirt loose and open at the top- and his  _smile_ \- god damn, that smile.  It never fails to make Eddie’s heart flutter and his knees feel weak.  Richie’s just so damn  _beautiful_ , and there are times Eddie can’t think when he’s got his eyes on him, can’t catch his breath when their eyes meet.  

Richie nudges his arm, turns a bit, grinning as he says, “Come on.  What’s wrong?”  

It’s so tempting to dive in to Richie’s special brand of comfort, but he resists.  "Nothing.  I’m fine.“  

"See, why don’t I believe you?”

“I don’t know,” Eddie says, keeping his eyes on the ground in front of him.  

“You thinkin’ about school?”  

“No…”  

“New York?”  

“No.”  

Richie pauses, his feet shifting in Eddie’s line of vision, his voice low and gentle as he says, “You’re nervous, aren’t you?”

Yes, of course he is.  He’s going to be completely alone.  "Yeah, but, I don’t know.  I don’t wanna stay here, but I guess I’ll…. I’m gonna miss you guys.“

“Awww,” Richie hums, leans in a little closer, and says, “That’s so sweet, Spaghetti-man.  I think my teeth are rotting.”

Rolling his eyes, Eddie shifts further down, putting some space between them.  “Don’t you dare make fun of me.”  

“I’m not!”

“It’s gonna suck.”

“I know, but you’ll be fine.”

He knows for a fact that’s definitely not going to be fine.  "I guess so.”  

Some Madonna song is spilling out into the hall, upbeat, the kind of thing Eddie listens to when he’s feeling upset, or empty, sort of how he feels now.  It’s doing nothing to help him, though, and he finds himself glancing to the side, letting the silence stretch on, eyeing Richie’s jaw, and his skin that looks so smooth and inviting.  He’s so damn pathetic.  It’d be easier if he never noticed how attractive Richie is, how kind of a heart he has once you get past the layers of humor and shit-talk, then, maybe, he’d be spared of all the uncertainty.  

It occurs to him that Richie might be feeling the same way about his plans to go to California.  At least New York is close enough that he can come back if he needs to.  He fucking hopes he doesn’t have to, but the thought is a little comforting either way.  

“Are you scared?”  He asks, unable to hold in his curiosity.  “You’re going off alone, too.”  

Richie shrugs, twirls the pen around a few times, and his eyes dart quickly over to Eddie, dark eyes still as big as they always have been behind his glasses.  “I don’t know,” he says, thoughtfully, then he frowns.  “Maybe I won’t go.”  

Eddie looks at him, raising his brow, doubtful.  “Are you serious, or are you just screwing around?”

“I’m serious.”  Richie stops twirling the pen, slips it back inside his pocket.  “It’s pretty far, you know?”

“Yeah…”

Richie turns, resting his shoulder against the wall instead, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly, the way it does whenever he talks about something personal.  “I could do something closer.  Comedy and acting, that’s shit you can do in New York.”  

Eddie’s heart skips, and he feels his eyes widen slightly.  “But, you’ve wanted to go to California since forever.”

“I know, but,” Richie sighs, looks around for a moment, then meets Eddie’s eyes again.  “I might change my mind.  Just depends.”  

“On what?”  His voice comes out low, and he can hear the disbelief in his own  tone.

There’s a heavy feeling in Eddie’s stomach, but there’s also a strange, hopeful swelling in his chest.  Having Richie in New York with him would be amazing.  He could find a way to get over him.  Maybe.  

Richie doesn’t look away from him as he says, “If there’s something in New York for me.”  

The hope threatens to take over, and Eddie has to lock his knees to keep from moving, or doing anything at all, because while he strongly believes Richie can never feel anything for him, he still wonders, and yearns.  

“What…” he starts, then forces his body to relax enough to go on.  “What are you saying?  You’re gonna go to New York, forget all about California?”  

“I’m  _saying,_ ” Richie pushes away from the wall, just as the pop tune starts to fade.  He faces Eddie, licks his lips, and Eddie gets distracted, staring at his mouth, and almost doesn’t hear him say,  “Dance with me.”

Eddie looks down, sees Richie’s hand held out to him, palm up, a real, genuine invitation.  Or, maybe Richie is just fucking around after all.  “What?” he asks, avoiding meeting Richie’s gaze, scared to see what’s there, what he’s really thinking or feeling.  “You serious?”  

Richie steps closer, a slow tune starting up, something soft, and barely discernible.  “Yeah,” he smiles, pushes his glasses up his nose with his free hand.  “Don’t leave me hanging, Eds.”

Glancing around, Eddie sees no one around, but he’s still weary of being spotted.  In a whispered rush, he says, “We can’t do that!”

“Why the fuck not?”

Eddie scoffs, looks down at Richie’s palm.  “We’re  _guys_ , Richie.  We  _can’t_.”

Sighing, Richie makes a show of looking around, even turning to peer at the wall behind him.  “Well, look at that.  Not one asshole around to see.”  

Chortling, Eddie rolls his eyes.  “You’re an idiot.”

“Come on.”  Pushing his bottom lip out, Richie gives him the most pathetic, pleading eyes Eddie has ever seen him use.  “Please?”  

He really shouldn’t give in, but he makes the mistake of allowing himself to look up, and his resolve crumbles as he meets Richie’s eyes.  His stomach squirms, and he tentatively, slowly, places his hand in Richie’s.  “Okay.”

Richie whoops, and tugs Eddie to him, Eddie’s breath hitching when Richie’s hand catches him by the waist.  “Gotta get closer.”

Heat fills Eddie’s cheeks, and he looks down at their feet to hide his blush face.  “I don’t even know how to do this.  How do we do this?”  

“Well, lucky for you,” Richie says, voice light and cheerful as he takes Eddie’s hands in his, brings them up over his shoulders, and around his neck.  “I’m a master dancer.”

Eddie snorts, ignoring the swooping low in his abdomen, and the wonderful feeling of having Richie so close.  “Yeah, sure.”

Breathing evenly becomes difficult when Richie’s palms both rest warmly over his waist, and they inch back, slowly, as Richie starts to move, swaying gently to the soft sound of a guitar.  Eddie recognizes the melody to “Patience”, but he’s not paying the song much attention, his focus fixed on Richie’s hands as they find a place to stop just above his belt.  It’s low enough that a quick jolt of want fills him, and he can’t help but look up, fixing his eyes on Richie’s lips, licking his own and swallowing at the dryness in his throat.  

Richie is humming along to the song, and Eddie wants to look up, but he’s so scared to let his feelings slip out.  He and Richie have hugged plenty, and they’ve always been close and touchy- but this is different.  It feels…  _intimate_ , the air around them charged, and Eddie prays that it isn’t just him feeling this, even though he knows that that is most likely the case.  

“You’re really not gonna go to California?” Eddie hears himself ask, and he winces at the breathy tone of his voice, and the way his hands are tight and locked together, tense.  The curls at the back of Richie’s neck tickle his knuckles, and he has to stop himself from allowing his fingers to explore the the beautiful mess, as he’s always wanted to.

Richie stops humming, and he doesn’t answer for a few moments, inhaling softly as he his arms tighten around Eddie’s middle.  “I don’t want to,” he says, and his voice has dipped lower, like it does when they sit back against Eddie’s bed late at night, talking about their dreams, their fears, families- everything they don’t share with anyone else.  “Not anymore.”

“Why not?”

The chorus of the song gets louder, and Eddie gazes up into Richie’s eyes, waiting, pleading with himself to stop letting hope blind him, and to stop thinking and wishing so hard for what he wants to hear.  He’s close to making peace with the future, and he doesn’t want to open up a whole new world of pain, because Richie is so back and forth with everything- but California has been a fixture for so long.

“I think New York might have more to offer,” Richie says, and he somehow gets even closer, their fronts just shy of being pressed together.

Stupid hope.  Stupid, dumb, painful hope grows even more in Eddie’s chest.  “Like what?”  

Richie lifts one shoulder, and he doesn’t look away.  “A job, maybe.  Or school.  Or, uh,” his eyes drop away for a moment, and then he looks back at Eddie, a light dusting of color on the top of his cheekbones.  “ _Someone_ , I guess.”  

Shit.  That’s really not fair, and Eddie almost wants to get mad, because now he’s starting to suspect that Bill might have said something to him.  Instinct tells him that’s not the case, because within their group, there are hardly any secrets besides romantic feelings.  Things just get too complicated when all of your friends know who you want.  

It can’t mean anything.  It’s just crazy.  “If you, uh, if you’re really gonna go to New York,” Eddie says, squashing down the ache inside, forcing it back so he can be the friend Richie needs.  “We can roommate.  It’ll be cheaper, and we’re used to each other.”  

Richie chuckles, leans in slightly, and says, “I don’t wanna be roommates.”

Eddie blinks a few times, hurt, and he moves back a little, looking away.  “Oh, well, uh, that’s fine.  We’ll still be friends, so,” he stops, feels a unexpected sting in his eye, and he absolutely hates himself.  “We’ll still see each other,” he goes on, shouting at himself to shut up, because if he can hear the upset in his voice, he knows Richie will be able to.  “Right?”

Richie smiles, pulls him back in.  “I wanna be under the same roof with you,” he says, and Eddie almost gasps when Richie lowers his mouth, right by his ear.  “But I don’t want to be  _roommates_.  I want more.”

“What…?” Eddie shivers, Richie’s breath slipping over his neck, and he can’t stop it this time, can’t stop the need that crawls up his spine.  “What do you mean?”  

Sighing, Richie tips his head to the side, until their temples are resting together, and his arms move up, up over Eddie’s back, and they wind tightly around him.  “You don’t get it?”

Eddie presses himself closer, daringly, and he shakes his head.  He can’t let himself believe, not until he hears it.  “No, just- just tell me what you mean.”  

Richie pulls back, but he doesn’t let go, and Eddie’s heart starts to pound hard, starts to skip, his nerves alight everywhere they are touching.  And everything around him, everything that he should be aware of disappears, fades to the back of his mind as Richie leans in.  His breath catches, his fingers slip into Richie’s hair, and just like he’s always imagined, their lips meet, soft, and Eddie’s eyes fall shut.  

Nothing else matters, and it all falls away- the worry over the future, the stress of graduation looming, and the fear that anyone could walk by and see them- it’s all unimportant.  Eddie holds on tightly, sighing, falling into the sensations- the fresh scent of Richie’s skin, the taste of his mouth, the feeling of his surprisingly soft hair between his fingers.  He never knew it could feel like this.  He never knew  _anything_ could feel like this.  And he tries to keep up, pours everything he’s kept hidden for so long into the kiss, a sound building in the back of his throat when Richie’s tongue swipes gently over his bottom lip.  That small thing, so insignificant, lights desire in his body, drives his hips to push forward, just a bit, seeking a closeness he’s never experienced, but wants so suddenly.  

Eddie is overwhelmed, and he pulls away, breathless, vulnerable, smiling shyly when Richie’s eyes flutter open and they gaze at each other.  It’s too good to be true.  He almost can’t believe it, probably would doubt it if it wasn’t for the affection shining in Richie’s eyes.  Has that always been there?  Maybe, and maybe he’s been too much of an idiot to pay attention.  

Richie moves in again, presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth, but Eddie turns and meets him, tugging Richie to him again, kissing him fiercely, desperate, too wound up now that this is out in the open.  And he  _needs_ , needs to be closer, needs to feel more- feel  _everything_ Richie can possibly give him.  

This time, Richie is the one to break away, and he’s breathing hard, his glasses slightly crooked, and he’s got a silly grin on his red, swollen lips.  “ _Wow_ , Eds,” and his voice is raw, filled with emotion, a little husky.  “I  _really_ fucking hope you get it now.”  

He does.  Leaning in, he kisses Richie’s cheek, his chin, and he stops when he gets to his mouth, hovering, unable to hold back a grin as he says, “Come to New York with me.”  

Richie hums, shrugs, says, “I  _guess_ I can find  _something_ there worth going for.  I heard there’s this great school.   _Very_ prestigious.  Almost  _impossible_ to get in-”

“ _Beep beep_ ,” Eddie says, tugging on the hair clutched in his hands, smirking when Richie gasps and bites his bottom lip.  “Are you coming with me, or not?”

Richie nods, breathes, “Yeah, yeah, I’m comin’,” and then they are kissing again, and Eddie lets all the hope and elation in the world wash over him.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think I don't write a lot of fluff.


End file.
